


After Dark

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate version of the Hideout party, Will doesn’t go and Chris comes home to him instead.  Top!Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Dark

It's four in the morning when Chris comes home, mostly recovered from the alcohol but wired as hell, clothes sticking to his sweat-slick skin and his hair a riot of lank waves. 

He bumps into the table just beside the door where he deposits his keys and his outerwear and shoes, is accosted by Brian three times between the entryway and the kitchen where he chugs a bottle of water like sucking air after nearly drowning, and by the time he makes it to the bedroom he feels at least thirty percent more human than he had during the cab ride home.

He's also hard enough to pound nails.

Will is--obviously--asleep on his belly, wearing a pair of Chris' Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle boxers and a tank top, hair still wet from the shower he must have taken before he went to bed. 

Chris nudges Brian out of the bedroom and closes the door, stripping off his clothes as he crosses the room. He doesn't stink but he is aware of how grimy he is, hours of sweat drying layer upon layer on his skin creating an itchy residue that he hates and can't stop feeling with every breath.

He would normally never come to bed dirty like this (both he and Will are fussy about that kind of thing), but Will is soft under the pale moonlight and snoring gently and all his in their bed, and after almost eight hours of being groped, rutted against, and hit on, the only thing that Chris wants in the entire world is to spread Will open and bury himself so deep inside of him that he'll have trouble finding his way out again.

He could have had anyone at that party.

He only wants Will.

He slides across the empty side of the bed (his side), curling an arm around Will's waist where the tank top he's wearing has ridden up around his waist, burying his face in the back of Will's neck and just breathing him in.

Will goes stiff--inhales, snuffles, turns in his arms, a confused sleepy smile spreading his lips. "Hey, there you are. Have fun?"

Chris kisses him. He tries to make it their usual light hello kiss, but it turns dirty the moment their mouths touch, his tongue tracing the seam of Will's sleep-sour mouth with a hunger that he usually reserves for nights when they have no where to be the next morning.

It's not always frantic. It's not always now now please now I need you, because that just isn't him. It isn't them. But right now, he can't shut the feeling off.

Will pulls back, surprise written across his features as Chris' hand traces the hair beneath his navel, almost unable to stop himself from doing it. He seems to finally notice the intense look on Chris' face.

"You got groped to all hell, didn't you?" he asks, grinning knowingly. 

After all, it had been Will who had introduced Chris to the gay scene in LA; not the juvenile, halfhearted stuff that Chris had found on his own, but the adult places where he could find men old enough to reign themselves in, mostly industry folk who were not impressed by actors. He knows all too well how easy it had been for Chris to get turned on by certain kinds of attention, especially safe within the bounds of their relationship, knowing that it would only amount to teasing or flirting and that Will had no issue with letting him play a little.

The thing is, Chris hadn't needed it; not for long, not really, not once he'd let Will in.

Chris breathes out warm and slow over Will's jaw. "Kinda." He rolls over on top of Will, kissing down his neck. "Don't wanna talk about it, really. Wanna fuck you." He keeps going, dragging his mouth wet and open over Will's nipples, Will's ribs, Will's defined abdominal muscles. God, Will's body. "Need to fuck you, need to feel you, okay?"

Will's face has gone dark. He shivers, sprawling on his back, eyes still sharp with sleep as he goes for the lubricant in the bedside drawer. No condoms; they'd had that talk and made that change at their one year anniversary. When Chris is feeling fussy about cleanup or they both feel lazy they'll use them, but otherwise it's nice to feel skin on skin when they have sex.

Tonight that isn't even a question.

Chris wants to fill him up.

Will isn't even hard yet, and he doesn't seem to care. He wraps one hand around the back of Chris' neck and pulls him down against him, searching Chris' alcohol-sharp mouth with his tongue. "All yours, sweetheart. Come on." He's so easy, like this. So giving. He's always so eager, there and willing the second that Chris shows a desire for something, anything.

Chris whines into his mouth; the difference between them is all the more obvious when he tastes minty clean toothpaste in Will's mouth. 

After quickly tugging the boxers off of Will's legs and the tank top over his head, he takes Will's legs by the thigh and hauls them up and around his waist. A lazy attempt to stroke Will's cock meets the swat of a hand.

"Don't," Will breathes, one hand drifting down and over his back to grip his ass. "Don't worry about me."

Chris moans, fumbling with the lubricant, feeling stupid and slow as he strokes three slick fingers down behind Will's balls. 

Normally they would at least exchange blowjobs or handjobs before fucking, or at bare minimum get each other close to orgasm (he'd been surprised to learn that fingering is largely unnecessary), but Chris can't think. His cock is slapping against his belly, hard and curved and leaking, and he just needs to be inside, he needs to feel something tight around himself or he's going to go insane, and Will is kissing him and groping his ass and pulling him between his legs, showing no signs of slowing down.

"Hey," Will whispers, kissing across Chris' jawline. "Don't. I don't need that. Just fuck me."

"You sure?" Chris asks, breathing heavily, rutting his cock down against Will's seeking hand.

"So hot when you get like this," Will answers, guiding Chris' cock between his legs. "Just want to feel it when you push inside me. Love it when it hurts a little."

"Shit," Chris hisses, lower back bending as he presses forward, the head of his cock catching on Will's rim and then falling off, only to catch and fall off again, Will's fingers clumsy because of the angle. 

He remembers when they first started having sex regularly and how he'd cracked up laughing at how often it was a challenge to get your dick in someone else's ass, and he remembers thinking this is the first time I've really laughed during sex, and he remembers thinking, I'm in love with this guy, fuck.

But then Will plants a heel against the back of his thigh and pulls him in, and there's so much lube, and Chris slides home like Will's body had just been waiting to take him.

He gasps. The sensation never loses its newness. He presses down and in, hips stuttering, belly heaving against Will's.

Will's legs wrap around his waist. Chris rocks between them, letting Will get used to the stretch for a minute or so, scrambles for an extra glob of lubricant while he still has the presence of mind to be on top of these things, and at the cold touch of it Will hisses, one hand going above his head to grip the headboard and the other sinking into Chris' hair.

"Oh, baby, yes," he whimpers.

God, the way he looks when he says that, love and lust practically spelled out in visible letters across his face--

The muscles of his arms and shoulders and torso stand out when he bends and Chris can't stop himself from biting at them, kissing them, mapping them with his tongue as he begins rocking in and out of Will's impossibly tight ass. He's so perfect; waves of pleasure and immediacy wrack Chris' body just at the grip of him.

Will tangles his fingers in the hair at the back of Chris' head and pulls their mouths together, their foreheads touching; again Chris feels the grime on his skin and hates it, but Will doesn't seem to mind. 

He opens his eyes and stares down into Will's as he begins truly fucking him with slow, deep thrusts that send his legs higher around Chris' waist and draw high-pitched whimpers from his throat.

"You--god, so good," Chris pants, feeling stupid. 

He wants to say so much more. He has so many words in his head for the way he feels about Will, for the way that sex with Will makes him feel, but the avenues by which those words have to travel are only half-built. 

This is still so new for him.

It doesn't last long; he's not fully functional after all that drinking and he's kind of half in his own head and even though Will feels perfect, amazing, around him, he just needs to fall apart. He needs to come. He's needed it all night, needed confirmation of the reality of Will in his bed, in his arms, in his life.

"It's okay," Will breathes, kissing his face. "It's okay."

"God," he hisses, cock pulsing ahead of his heartbeat as he comes inside of Will.

He'll admit to being fairly embarrassed when it's over and the urgency bleeds from his skin. It had been so quick. Will had never got hard.

Will is kissing his shoulder, his collarbone, thumbing his nipples and gently clenching around him.

"I owe you," Chris says, smiling sheepishly into Will's neck.

"You never owe me," Will replies.

"I want to owe you?"

"I want you to enjoy yourself and not feel guilty. This isn't a bar and you don't have a running tab."

"I want to suck you off?"

There's a pause, and then he catches Will smiling at him sideways, dirty and sweet and not at all shy. "Honey, you got me there."

Chris laughs--open-mouthed and joyful--and reaches down to take Will's cock in his hand. "That's my William."


End file.
